


All's Fair

by silvercheshire



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: A fanfic of a fanfic, Go read Vort Dogs you cowards, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 02:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvercheshire/pseuds/silvercheshire
Summary: Zim is trying to propose to Dib here and it's a mess. A short story inspired from Andystarr's Vort Dogs: A Love Story fanfic.





	All's Fair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andystarr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andystarr/gifts).

> This is a short story briefly mentioned in Anystarr's amazing IZ story: Vort Dogs, a love story, found https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374069/chapters/30628533 . Can you write fan fiction of fan fiction? I'm here to say yes apparently you can. I'm such a hardcore fan of this work, and I'd suggest you go read it if you have any inclination at all. Anyways, this is just my small contribution to that.

Zim was nervous. The alcohol in this weak earth wine wasn’t taking the edge off. No instead, it was digging into every thought and worry he’d ever had and presenting it to him like it was new information. As if he didn’t already have enough to worry about. 

The evening wasn’t going right. His best efforts to replicate spaghetti, the earth food Skoodge deemed the most “romantic” among earthen foods, hadn’t turned out right (even if Dib said it tasted fine). GIR had done even worse than expected as their sommelier for the evening, and on top of this, everyone and their SIR unit was messaging him or Dib (or both with that accursed group chat feature) about Irk knew what. He’d very explicitly asked them not to. Or ordered them in some cases. He’d yank their limbs (or whatever antenna appendage Shloonktapooxis actually had) out for this. 

Distantly, Zim wondered if he should scrap his intentions for another time. No, no wait, no he wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t having second thoughts. He was NOT having second thoughts. He was Zim, great and powerful. He was Zim who had traveled from one end of the galaxy to the other and back again. He was Zim that had encountered and fought countless battles. He was Zim who had been with Dib for years now. Irk, he’d been with Dib for years now. 

Zim wished it was the voices of the Control Brains that seeded this infernal doubt. Then he could justifiably ignore it (or pushed passed it) as he had in the past. He could assure himself that it wasn’t his doubt, specifically. But it was. He hadn’t heard the Control Brains for years now. This was him, solely him. Solely Zim. He wanted to rip his own antennae out. 

But no, for now Zim watched carefully as Dib picked at his food eating gingerly around some of the larger chunks of not-exactly-tomato that Dib assured tasted fine but clearly didn’t like. Feeling his eyes, Dib looked up and forced a grin, a big stupid grin that Zim liked to refer to as “stupider than usual”. Zim smiled back.

It should not have been this difficult. This entire thing was for Dib. Irkens didn’t get married. Humans did. There were no doubts in Zim’s mind that Dib would accept! Then why was he feeling like this? If he had to guess, it was because, again, it was for Dib. All of this. All of Zim. He’d wrapped himself up time and time again into one present or another, and a breakthrough years ago now finally made Dib understand. They were in love. But this was different somehow. Frustratingly so.

Zim could feel his hand shaking on his wine glass as he picked it up and took a swig of it. It wasn’t strong enough. “GIR, break out the other bottle,” he snapped. The SIR unit flashed red once giving a salute before giggling and skipping into the back. Zim’s eyes flashed back to Dib. Now or never. Now. Now. Now. “Dib,” Zim started.

Dib looked up from his communicator. “Yeah?”

“I—” A crash from the kitchen cut Zim off. Dib physically jumped and dropped his communicator on the floor. Zim cringed. “GIR, what’s going on in there?” he snapped standing and leaning on the table to see better into the kitchen. Dib turned around in his chair. 

“I found muffins!” GIR screeched.

Immediately, Dib slapped a hand over his face, turned forward, and rubbed his face and glasses in unison. “Not the muffins…” Distantly, Zim remembered Dib had squirreled away some muffins from a planet they had recently encountered called Bread, its major production being in its very name. Had Zim not known any better, he would have guessed it was under Irken rule. Surprisingly this was not the case. Regardless, Dib had liked those muffins. 

“GIR don’t touch them!” Zim hissed. 

“Oh-kay!” GIR called, but the particular crunching of machine parts assured Zim they were being eaten anyways. Zim growled and stood. 

“It’s fine, Zi-” Dib started. 

“It’s NOT,” Zim cut in. Dib looked briefly bewildered. Zim growled softly as he stomped towards the kitchen, the heels of his shoes clicking fervently. 

Dib’s hand reached out and caught Zim’s shoulder before he could pass. Zim stopped and shot him a sideways glare. “It’s fine, Zim, I promise!” Dib emphasized slower this time. Zim could see the sudden concern that had flashed in his eyes. “Just… just sit down?”

Zim pulled his shoulder free. “It’s not,” he snapped. “They’re yours.”

Dib sighed and shook his head. “Well, no, we both know everything in here is actually GIR’s…” he spoke quietly with a small twinge of a smile on his features. It was a phrase they had used over and over again to describe GIR’s… GIRness in relation to their quarters. Most of the time it earned a laugh. Zim only deflated some. “Don’t worry about it; we can always go back to Bread and get more.”

But they’re yours. Zim wanted to insist but caught himself. He was doing it again, ugh. Zim glanced away, reaching backwards to grab his wine. He downed it in a single gulp. Dib winced. Zim downed Dib’s next. The latter immediately protested. “Hey!”

“What does it matter! You let GIR have your muffins!” Zim barked. A sharp, breathy laugh suddenly broke from Dib, and Zim could feel heat growing in his features. As much as he enjoyed hearing Dib laugh, he hated it right then. “Dib!” 

Dib stopped laughing at the tone and stared at him. “What is it, master of muffin monger?” came the softer tease. Zim didn’t have time to remember what a monger was to humans let alone what they had to do with muffins. 

An awkward pause, and Dib was staring at him now. Zim took in a sharp breath. Well. “Since GIR ate your muffins,” And Zim had just downed his wine. “I’ll give you something you want back.”

Immediate intrigue flashed in Dib’s eyes. “Oh, yeah?” Zim fought the sudden urge to roll his eyes at that annoyingly playful tone. “Whatcha got for me, space boy?” Dib was expecting candy or flowers or shells or any number of things that he might have picked up while he was out. It was obvious. 

Zim puffed up. Now or never. “THIS!” he cried with a lot more zeal than even he had expected to. From the pocket of the jacket he had been wearing, a ring appeared. “This is what you want, correct!” Zim could hear the strain in his own voice and was pretty sure that Dib could hear it as well. 

Dib, however, sat there stunned for a moment in utter silence. Zim’s hand remained frozen in its extended position, but his shoulder twitched some. The gears in Dib’s mind were churning behind his dark eyes, and as he came to the ultimate conclusion, he looked from the ring to Zim and then back again. “Yeah?” 

Well, that wasn’t the response that Zim was looking for. Zim immediately shoved it forward, and Dib’s hand just as quickly shifted away. Dib was laughing again, softly now, and Zim could feel he’d fucked up.

“Do you want it or not!” Zim demanded, unable to figure out what to do. Dib only laughed harder. “What? What is it? What?” 

“Zim…” Dib had sat up in his chair and started to adjust his glasses on his face. The nose piece had been half broken for so long that his glasses immediately fell stupidly on his face again. “Zim I’d love to marry you…” Dib said in such a light and breathy way that for a moment, Zim had been about to forgive him for the laugh. “But… but you see…. the rules on earth require that in order to get married… we have to spar first…. and you gotta put that right there on this right here…” He pointed at the ring still clutched in Zim’s hand to the ring finger on his own. “It’s tradition.” 

Zim stared, dumbfounded. Had Skooge left out such an important detail as that? He’d get an antenna full about this later. Or maybe both antennae full. “Is that so?” Zim asked. Dib grinned and wriggled his fingers. Very briefly, Zim caught a glance of the scar that now hooked over his index, middle, and ring finger. Zim watched it move like a snake along with his fingers. “Well then…” Leaping onto the table with gusto, Zim kicked his own plate sideways and sent it crashing to the floor. “I will be the victor then!”

A mistake was made. Dib immediately tensed. He’d started to say something, but Zim had already leapt at him. The chair Dib sat in threw both him and Zim back. The small table they were eating at immediately fell sideways from the force. A shrill noise, like a cry, reverberated from GIR. Neither Zim nor Dib would know whether he was cheering or complaining, however.

They rolled this way and that. Zim was determined not to use his PAK legs to pin Dib unless absolutely required to. Dib, however, had gotten much more muscular over the years, and he knew Zim’s tactics too well. He wouldn’t fall for this move or that. Even drunk on wine, Dib was stupidly strong. Zim hissed and squirmed as he reached for one of Dib’s hands aiming the ring on it only for Dib to slip his hand sideways and—

A shriek escaped from Zim as fingers buried themselves in his sides. “Dib!” Zim snarled as he squirmed away from that hand and off Dib. The latter was laughing menacingly. “You! You! You filthy cheater!”

Dib was grinning, shit eating grin. “All’s fair in love and war,” he quoted so eloquently that Zim finally, finally understood the earthen colloquialism that had annoyed him so deeply. So, this was what that was about! He should have known! Leaping forward, Zim extended both PAK legs aiming to pin Dib. No more games, then! 

Dib, for all he was and all he wasn’t, however, didn’t actually move this time. His arms splayed open pushed hard into the wall. His legs were twisted somewhat but shoved to the ground. A soft laugh escaped from him. As their eyes met, Zim suddenly became aware of Dib’s lie. He was grinning wide, hard. His features were flush. He was enjoying himself. “You’re a dirty liar, Dib,” Zim growled.

Dib let out another laugh, and Zim felt his resolve weakening. Dib glanced sideways, and Zim followed his gaze to his left hand. The leg that pinned he arm slowly retracted and Dib twisted his hand once to look at it and then to extend it again to Zim. “You win, space boy…” came the soft hum. Zim stared at Dib in silence for a moment. 

The shrill cries of GIR in the background were the only sounds in the air right then. 

Slowly, Zim smiled and pushed the ring onto the correct finger. Dib retracted his hand to look at it. “I always wanted to get married.”

Zim felt warm. His eyes closed. His PAK legs retracted, and he flopped lazily against Dib. Dib held him. Both sighed deeply. “I knew you’d want it…” He murmured. 

“I love you,” Dib answered. 

“I love you too.”


End file.
